


Fascination

by principessa



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Brother-Sister Relationships, Carver Positivity Week, Flirting, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/principessa/pseuds/principessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver likes looking at Fenris. And talking to Fenris. And thinking about Fenris. And he <i>doesn't</i> need Marian's help in this, thank you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fascination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [literalcarver](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=literalcarver).



> for literalcarver on tumblr because they sent me fenris/carver fic and opened up a whole new world of possibilities!!!
> 
> (also this is canon for dark skinned hawkes and aggressive hawke who is only diplomatic with carver and momma)
> 
> (ignore the girl squad references thats just an inside joke with myself bc when i was playing a female warrior i would only have girls in my party bc bethany my love)

There weren't many days when Carver wasn't bitter -- about losing home, about mother's being stuck in the past, about Marian being the shining elder sibling, about Varric's fucking _comments_ about his being bitter -- but it was something of a novelty to find someone even more bitter and brooding than he was.

He still wasn't too sure about the elf. On the one hand, he'd raised his voice at Carver's sister which was absolutely unacceptable, and Carver hadn't hesitated to step in, nor would he hesitate to do so again. But on the other, it was... different, to see someone who could vocalize Carver's own fears about the matter, especially since Fenris seemed to both respect Marian _and_ be wary of magic, which made Carver feel validated in ways he was too afraid to examine.

But besides that, Fenris was a strong warrior with a good swordarm, who rushed to Marian's defense in battle almost as frequently as Carver did himself, which could only be a point in his favor. Not to mention that he wasn't a stupid elf -- not that Merrill was, exactly, but her conversation tended to be about blood magic, flowers, and asking Isabela about pirates, whereas Fenris had lived a seemingly adventurous life as a tevinter fugitive. Honestly, the man was intriguing, with his odd lyrium-markings and strange white hair and deep smooth voice.

Not that Carver looked at him often, or liked listening to his voice, or anything. He was just keeping an eye on him, trying to see if the ex-slave was an ally or not. That was Carver's job as the man of the family, making sure no one suspicious is hanging around his sister, right? Right. 

And if that meant seeking Fenris out at the Hanged Man when Marian left him home to go on her adventures with her 'girl squad', well, Carver was a dedicated brother after all. the conversation was always one part fascinating, one part humiliating. On some nights they would talk about the chantry, and about the circle, and templars; on those nights, Carver always felt a little breathless, being able to finally discuss his respect for the order -- for the _concept_ of the order, how it _should_ be, taking care of mages rather than oppressing them, a place for mages to be safe -- with someone who would thoughtfully take his words into consideration before answering, and Fenris would always measure his responses carefully. They didn't always agree, of course, and Carver had been accused more than once of being biased for having a family of apostates, but that was fine.

Of course, that didn't entirely make up for the insane amount of times that Carver _put his foot in his mouth_ while trying to express concern for the elf. Every time he asked why Fenris wouldn't want to just stay safe and not risk his life and was violently shot down Carver could taste ashes in his mouth. The warrior couldn't even think back to that whole _"I have a life!"_ debacle without quietly wanting to die, and it didn't help that Marian was absolutely onto him. 

"You like Fenris," she said bluntly, standing behind his chair to to help him with his braids -- he still protested every time she insisted on doing so, but the eldest always wins, and so here he was at nineteen with his bloody _sister_ doing his hair -- in a way that made it impossible to escape. Marian was like a bag of knives, sharp and angry and aggressive in the way that a lifetime of hiding makes you, but with Carver and Mother she always had a little smile playing around her lips, a softness in her voice that was strange and alien. She had been the same with Bethany.

"I do not," Carver argued, having his head yanked back for good measure and gritting his teeth as he continued re-wrapping the handle of his greatsword.

"So you didn't tell him about your mabari tattoo to impress him, then," she replied, the statement layered with the kind of sarcasm that meant she would regret the words immediately, and sure enough her hands turned gentle for a moment as she fumbled. "I mean --"

"His markings look a bit like tattoos," Carver tried to defend himself, moving past Marian's engrained failure to communicate just to hear her quiet sigh of relief. "And he's strong, so - so I thought he would appreciate it. I mean."

"Hmm," his sister hummed, and she let the subject drop, much like Carver wanted to drop his head into his hands and never have to look her in the eye again. Especially when the next day she brusquely told Fenris "You should train alone with Carver, teach him some form," and Carver turned so red that it showed beneath his dark skin, so red that he wanted to die. Isabela didn't even bother holding back her laughter at him, the bitch, and Carver despaired that his sister thought she could _flirt with Fenris for him_ and come out of it with a veiled insult. Fucking typical. Isabela spent the rest of the venture making jokes about how the men in her crew would get _so lonely_ , because the Maker must hate Carver for something he's done in a past life. And to crown it all, Fenris kept shooting him _looks_.

In his bunk that night he wondered what Bethany would have thought of this situation, and immediately felt a thousand times worse, because Bethany would tell him to get his head out of his arse and stop dicking around, and would probably be worse than Marian with the 'assistance'. Maker, but Carver missed her. He turned around to punch his pillow, ignoring Marian's muffled "Shut up, you'll wake Mother", and tried to sleep. As was usual at this point, he dreamt of shining lyrium markings, and as was also ususal, woke up wishing that he didn't share a bedroom with his fucking mother and sister.

The next time they were alone at the Hanged Man, left behind again, and didn't that make Carver bitter, Fenris stared at him long enough that Carver was starting to fidget, before stating in that deep voice of his, "If you truly need training, you can join me at Danarius' mansion at sunrise tomorrow. I believe that your form is more than sufficient, however."

"Oh, I -- oh." Carver blinked, foundered for a moment before latching onto the opportunity. "Well, I won't say no to some improvement. Besides, you're really quite good -- at sword fighting, that is. You've got good arms. For that, I mean. For swords."

Fenris blinked at him, once, and Carver was about to apologize when Fenris chuckled and coughed into his hand. "Quite. Perhaps for tomorrow you can improve your flattery, and I shall try and improve mine."

With that he threw his coins on the table and got off to leave, barefoot as always, leaving Carver alone at the table, rather unsure about what had just happened. When he realized the underlying possibility in Fenris' words he couldn't help the grin that broke out across his face, and he actually let out a victorious whoop, one that was echoed by the other patrons, all of them too drunk to do much but follow the crowd.

Perhaps he should thank Marian - no, he wouldn't, she would be unbearable. So Carver smiled to himself and went back to uncle Gamlen's house, to Mother's fussing and the creaky bunks, eager for the night to be over and for dawn to come.

**Author's Note:**

> i still blame penny for getting me into this fandom


End file.
